Tyrannosaurus Death!: A Conversation with Adam Volerich

This interview is a part of Issue #2: Breath. You can get your own physical copy of the zine through our store or Patreon.

Though we featured some of Adam Volerich’s still photography in our previous issue, he’s primarily a filmmaker. We’ve been big supporters of his work, through Magnalux Pictures or otherwise, at Secret Cave. His catalogue shines with ingenuity, off-beat humour and a deep respect for the power of location. With the release of his latest short-film, Tyrannosaurus Death!, we jumped at the opportunity to interview Adam about its production.

Below is a cropped sample page from our zine.…   [continue reading]

ACME: An Explanation

This ten-part fiction is currently being serialised in our zine. You can order a copy of Issue #2: Breath, featuring this part, from our store or Patreon.

< PART ONE

2

An Explanation
(let me take you by the hand)

The ACME Company was everything to everyone around it. As fundamental as water to our survival, there were utterly no revolutionaries against the peculiar establishment. After all, a human would not get particularly far if they eschewed fluids; so the same applied to Petey, Georgie and the rest of their charming ilk’s reliance on ACME.

ACME provided all inhabitants with their wishes.…   [continue reading]

Issue #2: Breath: General Updates and News #3

You can pre-order a physical copy of Issue #2: Breath here!

The next three weeks represent our final push before we publish Issue #2: Breath. Benjamin and I have been doing all we can in the background to make this zine special. We’ve worked hard to give our excellent submissions the formats they deserve, and we couldn’t be happier with the results.

However, we originally planned for a 2nd of April release date. Due to a number of circumstances, there will likely be a fortnight’s delay. The issue will still print in April, but we need the extra days in order to perfect the product. …   [continue reading]

Mr. Mero: 2XXX

This is Part Four of a short fiction.

Part OnePart TwoPart Three

J-Seven associated the tonal countdown that had come bursting into his eardrum implants with progress. Not only did it represent the end of his duly allotted rest period, but it also signalled the start of a personal learning phase. He had another two of these scheduled, and he contemplated what might help to drive him through them. His upcoming briefing concerned History, a subject far too removed from the future he placed his true interest in.

At least Vitrius’ latest model was a greater comfort on the temples, which resulted in an appreciated lack of headaches.…   [continue reading]

Mr. Mero: 20XX

This is Part Three of a short fiction.

Part One — Part Two — Part Four

Mr. Mero’s morning was off to a promising start. As advertised, an anaesthetic injection had worked wonders on his surprisingly decrepit spine, allowing him to stand without agony. It gave him the extra energy to program the MatterMate properly, which led to a much richer approximation of tea and toast. But a phone call the previous evening was the real reason for his mood.

The conversation suggested his involvement in Vitrius’ latest prototype. Their contact meant that he could get personal access to an exciting, if elusive, new development.…   [continue reading]

Mr. Mero: 199X

This is Part Two of a short fiction.

Part One — Part Three — Part Four

Several years (and many more cups of vended coffee) later, Mr. Mero found himself at the main desk of the same room he trained in — troubled. Older and more savvy, he had grown to read less music magazines and more broadsheets. One particular morning, he couldn’t put his finger on what disturbed him more. Was it the headline announcing the successful cloning of a rhesus monkey, or rather the side-line story sensationalising an adolescent suicide? Both had ruined his day before it had even started.…   [continue reading]

Mr. Mero: 19XX

This is Part One of a short fiction.

Part Two — Part Three — Part Four

Aligned in perfect symmetry, the desks of the classroom formed an ordered horseshoe. Upon closer inspection, Mr. Mero noticed that nothing had changed in the anarchic spirit of young independence. Chewing gum pocked the table legs and lurked beneath the surface out of sight. He even allowed himself a smile at a crudely carved penis. After all, he engraved the same in his childhood with some infant inkling of territorial pride.

Mr. Mero was as much an apprentice as the juveniles lining up outside — unfamiliar with his subject and nervous of failure.…   [continue reading]